• Published 5th Nov 2015
  • 1,535 Views, 7 Comments

The Last Sentinel: Off the Record - Adder1



A collection of side-stories taking place in the universe established by Fallout: Equestria- The Last Sentinel.

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Prologue

Off the Record

He was seated atop one of the railcars that made up the perimeter of Junction R-7. He had a thick fur coat the color of wet ash, tufted ears that twitched with every odd sound or raised voice, and gleaming, slanted amber eyes with predatory slits for irises now gazing over the endless expanse of dust, dirt, and death. His armor was gothic in aesthetic, awash in dark shades of blue and violet with demonic designs and an alien-like fin on the helm. New additions of distinctly Northerner, daresay Hokkaidan flair protected his previously vulnerable neck, belly, and legs. A muzzle shroud dangled from one side of his helm. Clutched in a scraggly, griffin-like arm constructed out of ice was a hodgepodge of a shotgun- clearly a Saiga 12S but with the remains of the curved end of a crowbar making up the stock. A shark muzzle brake tipped the barrel, and a reflector sight was mounted up top. Staring out in statuesque fashion over the land with weapon at the ready, he was every bit the Sentinel he claimed to be.

Aside from perhaps the ebony balisong he was twirling in his other ice arm. True to his claim of mastery, his horn didn’t emit even the slightest aura as he cryomantically cantered the blade between his fingers.

It was no longer quiet at the Junction. Only a couple weeks ago, their numbers swelled by hundreds overnight. That meant more mouths to feed, more bodies to lodge, more shit to shovel.

And more fucking noise.

She decided to join the Sentinel. The armored stallion only slightly turned his head at the approach of the gray griffiness touching down beside him. She was suited in old combat armor modified to bear the outstretched claw, calling card of Talon Company. She nodded him in greeting and set her beaten bolt-action down. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he greeted back in a deep, grave tone one wouldn’t have expected from a Northerner. “Griseis, right? Fourth in command?”

She huffed and cracked a thin grin. “You act as if you don’t remember.”

“Two-hundred-fifty-seven years is a lot to sift through, even if you’re more recent,” he huffed in turn, looking back over the dreary landscape. “Couldn’t stand the noise?”

“Pretty much,” Griseis answered with a grimace.

He cocked his head momentarily- out of agreement, disapproval, or mere acknowledgement, she couldn’t tell. “Can you blame them, though? Not their fault the Steel Rangers decided to raid their Stable, and at least they brought their orchard with them.”

“Guess it ain’t, but fucking hell it sucked donkey balls that we had to expand the perimeter,” the gray griffiness said with a scowl. “Least you arrived after we had that handled. And it’s certainly Gawd’s fault for actually taking them in instead of… fuck, I dunno, passing them on to New Appleloosa at the very least.” The clicking of his balisong stopped. He turned his head toward her. Even if his expression was unchanged, those eyes seemed… hungry. Unsettlingly hungry. “... what?”

“You realize you’re talking to the son of two refugees, right?” He tilted his head forward, and those eyes grew ever more ravenous. “Hell, a buck whose entire people were refugees?”

Griseis winced and broke eye contact. “Sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

He faced forward once more. “Remember what I said? Not too long ago? Before, people greeted one another with a smile and a wave. Today? Caution and paranoia. With few exceptions.” He cocked his head momentarily again and pouched his balisong, sublimating the unneeded arm. “Of course, I might be biased in their favor. They make for a good audience.”

She huffed again and grinned a little once more. “Can’t imagine why.”

He huffed and grinned a little in turn. “Got a favorite part yet?”

Griseis sighed softly, glancing upward in thought. “When you told us about Aldorna. You know… Avalon.” She could feel her eyes on him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see the three towers in my life, but the way you described it all… couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in the griffin people.” She let out a sigh. “Fuck, we’ve fallen far, haven’t we?”

She looked at him, and he was the one to break eye contact, glancing downward. Most certainly not in thought. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We all have.” Eyes back on hers. “But we can get it back. One step at a time.” He looked back upon the multitude of ponies and griffins mingling behind them. “One life at a time.”

Griseis glanced downward. Most certainly not in thought. “... you know if Avalon’s still standing?”

“... mostly,” he answered.

“‘Mostly?’” she parroted. Eyes on him. “Frost.”

Eyes on her. He lets out a soft sigh, cool mist flowing from his mouth. “The southern and northeastern tower still stand. The northwestern… it didn’t make it through the Enclave occupation.”

“Way you say it, you make it sound like it was your fault,” Griseis remarked.

He flattened his lips and drew in a deep breath. “Kid, when you find out exactly what I did when The Great War turned into a Cold War…” He shook his head and turned away.

She kept watching him. “How do you know about that? I mean, that two of the towers are still standing and… well, the third ain’t.”

He let out that breath slowly. “I know a griffiness.”

“Sounds like a story.”

He lowered his head and let out a huff. “Yeah. It is.”

Griseis looked off into the distance. “Well, it ain’t even noon yet. We have the time.”

He looked at her with an arced brow but an amused grin. “Kid, isn’t one story enough for you?”

She found herself chuckling in spite of herself. “You complaining? Fuck, buck, it’ll at least kill time. Can’t fucking imagine how you kept yourself occupied being a Lunar Guard if any bit of what I know of them is true! Standing all statue-like for hours at a time and all that shit.”

Again he cocked his head momentarily in that ambiguous fashion. “We have our methods.” He too looked out over the Wasteland. “You really want to hear it, don’t you?”

“You bet.”

He let out a soft sigh. “... I’m going to be talking about the Aldorna-Enclave Resource War, Griseis. I’m going to be talking about perhaps what is the darkest hour of griffin history, and that’s saying something coming from a historian. The Age of Struggle? Eons ago. The Cold War, The Great Schism? … okay, well… I’ll talk more on that later, but the Resource War? Aldorna was almost completely annihilated, Griseis.”

Her eyes met his. “You know this only makes me want to hear it more, right? Unless that was intentional.”

He sighed and glanced behind them. “It’s a warning because this is probably going to make you feel a lot worse than dealing with several hundred Stable Two refugees.”

“Well some stories need to be told, and that sounds like one of ‘em,” Griseis said, crossing her arms.

He let out another sigh and glanced downward briefly. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s one of them.” Eyes back on her. Sat up straight. “I’m not the only storyteller around. I guess it’s time I did at least one of them justice.

“Just between you and me for now, Griseis- we’re going off the record.”

* * *

Soundtrack: Theme of The Last Sentinel: Off the Record

Author's Note:

And thus begins another project of mine. Here's hoping you enjoy it. As always, I encourage feedback of any sort, and constructive criticism is always appreciated. My thanks to my pre-readers, Lazer726 and Sideband, and you for reading.

Regards,
Adder1